Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
I press my nose against the big window in Lark and Knox’s sitting room, leaving smeary marks that someone will probably lecture me for later. But I don’t care because dragons. Dragons are in the courtyard!
Their scales catch sunlight and turn it all kinds of colors. Like when Lady Rhiann let me play in the jewelry box and I accidentally spilled all the pretty sparkly necklaces and earrings. Mama says I’m “not to be left alone.” Which is silly because I’m already six and can take care of myself.
That’s why I’m here watching Lark and everyone get ready for their important trip.
My flame—it doesn’t have a name yet because it’s still deciding—hovers over my shoulder and makes tiny glittery circles in the air. Uncle Agnar says most people don’t get familiars. He says it’s special, like me.
I may not have my wings yet, or elemental magic, but at least I have something no one else does.
“Rose, get your face off the glass.” Uncle Agnar scolds me without even looking. I swear, he has eyes in the back of his head.
I rub away the smudge with my sleeve. “How long ’til you come back?”
Uncle Agnar counts the swords laid out on the large table. He picks each one up, swishes the blade through the air, and puts it back down again. “Five, maybe six days if the negotiations take longer. Shouldn’t be more than a week.”
“That’s forever.” I huff and flop onto a giant chair. My feet can’t reach the floor, so my legs stick straight out. My flame zooms around my head, trailing light behind it.
On the other side of the room, Knox holds a piece of paper. “Thirty-seven waterskins. Twelve tents, winter-weight. Fifty rations of dried meat.”
Bastian nods. He resembles Lark, with the same hazel eyes and shiny brown hair, only his chin is pointier. “I’ve doubled the blankets. The mountains of Tír Ríoga are colder this time of year.”
Blah blah blah. Blankets and tents are boring.
I slide off my chair and tiptoe closer to where Lark is talking with Councilor Bennett, who usually looks like he just ate something sour. “The Northern Passage will be guarded by six of our strongest air wielders. We’ve stationed lookouts at various intervals.”
My flame friend drifts toward them, just as curious.
“And the contingency plans if we’re separated?” Lark’s voice is quieter than the others’, but I can still hear her just fine.
“Rendezvous at the Eastern Ridge.” The councilor studies a big scroll on the table, tracing the words with his finger. “I’ve briefed every guard personally.”
“Excellent.” Lark strides over to Sterling and whispers in his ear. He grins before whispering something back that turns her cheeks red.
I love looking at Lark. Her wings are tucked away now, but I’ve seen them when they’re out, and they’re so pretty. The dark brown feathers have burgundy streaks and little bits of gold.
She only got her wings in the last year. I really hope I don’t have to wait that long for mine.
She notices me staring and smiles. “Hey there, Rose.”
I feel like I just swallowed sunshine. “Hi.”
Lady Leesa calls out from across the room and holds up cloaks. “Lark, do you think the blue or the green will be more appropriate for the welcome ceremony?”
The green cape is so dark it’s almost black and has little shiny pieces sewn all over it. The blue one has fuzzy bits around the collar that would probably tickle your chin.
Queen Lark points at the green one. “The blue doesn’t look very warm.”
Leesa nods and folds the green cape carefully.
My eyes wander the room for something to do until I spot my uncle by a table of bows and arrows. He pulls each bowstring until it twangs and then checks every arrow.
I creep over and watch him work. “Can I help?”
His brow crinkles. “These aren’t toys, Rosie.”
“I know that.” I roll my eyes. “I’m not a baby.”
Uncle Agnar’s mouth twitches like he wants to smile. “Hand me that polish, then.”
I pass him the little jar, and he dips a cloth inside before rubbing it over a curved piece of metal on one of the bows. The sharp odor wrinkles my nose. “Will you have to shoot anyone?”
“I hope not. This is a diplomatic mission, which means we’re trying to make friends. But we always prepare for trouble, just in case.”
I nod like I understand, but I don’t.
Whenever I try to make new friends, I don’t take a bow and arrows just in case I have to shoot them.
Adults are weird sometimes.
I squeal at the sound of dragon wings flapping outside the window. More dragons are landing in the courtyard, their riders jumping off and leading them to others.
“Where’s Dame?” Even though Lark is one of the few people she lets close to her, Dame is my favorite dragon. She’s a reddish-brown color, sort of like the glossy flower vase my mama bought at the market.
“Probably in her cave.” Knox is so tall I have to tilt my head way back to see his face. “Her eggs are about to hatch.”
“Baby dragons!” I bounce on my toes. “Can I see them when they do?”
Knox ruffles my hair. “Perhaps. If Dame allows it.”
I gather all my courage and take a deep breath. “I want to come with you to Tír Ríoga.”
The room gets extra quiet, the way it does when I drop something breakable.
Knox stares at me for a long, long moment. “You’re very brave, Rose.” Something in his voice leads me to believe he might actually say yes.
My heart beats faster. My flame familiar glows bright with hope.
But then Lark steps forward, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Rose, but there won’t be other children there.”
A lump clogs my throat. “But I’m brave! Knox just said so!”
“You are incredibly brave.” Lark kneels down so her eyes are level with mine.
“But Tír Ríoga is most likely going to end up being terribly boring. The negotiations themselves could become…complicated. Which means we’ll do nothing but sit around, listening to people complain for days and days.
” She sighs, her shoulders drooping. “I don’t even want to go, and I’m the one who set this all up. ”
Knox’s eyes soften. “Lark is right, little warrior. Perhaps another time.”
My flame familiar dims, sharing in my disappointment.
I glance at Uncle Agnar, hoping he’ll take my side, but he crosses his arms and gives me the look. “In. No. Uncertain. Terms. You are not coming on a sensitive diplomatic mission. I’ve got to watch over these two. I can’t watch over you too.”
He stares straight at me, and I stare right back. Just because I’m not allowed to doesn’t mean…
“And if you try to stow away again, I’ll pluck you out of the saddlebag myself and drop you mid-air.”
I gasp, and the flame flickers. “You would not!”
“Try me.” Uncle Agnar’s eye twitches.
My flame familiar pulses sharp and bright, like it’s saying bad words in fire language.
“You’re joking.” I narrow my eyes and point at him. “You’re just worried about me.”
Uncle Agnar’s eyebrows shoot up so high they almost touch his hair. “Of course I’m worried about you. You’re six!”
“Six and three-quarters.” I put my hands on my hips like Mama does when she’s correcting him. “And I came through phoenix fire, remember?”
The twitch near his eye gets bigger. “Yes, and you nearly gave everyone heart failure!”
Everyone’s looking at me now. Leesa’s smiling behind her hand. Bastian glances at me and coughs before staring at his feet. Queen Lark’s gentle eyes make me feel worse about getting mad at her.
I stick my nose in the air and spin around. “Well, I’m not worried at all. And neither is my familiar.”
My flame brightens and shows off by doing a little loop-de-loop.
“Have a nice boring trip without me.” I stomp toward the door. “I’ll just stay here and do boring things like…like eating cake and playing with Dame’s babies when they hatch.”
Uncle Agnar chokes a little. I bet his face is all scrunchy. I skip out of the room, my familiar trailing golden sparkles behind me.
Maybe I will check the packs in the dragon enclosure. Just to see if there’s enough room for a six-and-three-quarters-year-old girl who’s good at holding her breath and staying quiet.
Uncle Agnar can’t drop me mid-air if he never finds me.
I pause at the threshold of our bedchamber, my hand still on the ornate door handle.
The space is about the same size as the sitting room, with wall-to-ceiling windows and a door that leads to the private patio.
Two giant chandeliers hang overhead, and a large fireplace spans one wall to keep the chill at bay on crisp winter nights.
The unexpected sight before me prompts me to halt my stride at the two cushioned chairs next to the door.
On the other side of the room, Lark stands ramrod straight before a potted fern that sits between her vanity and the door to the bathing chamber.
Her voice is pitched in a formal cadence so unlike her normal tone.
My lips twitch with amusement, but something in the rigid set of her shoulders tugs at me. This kind of tension doesn’t belong in our private sanctuary.
“Furthermore, the crown must consider the long-term implications for our agricultural interests.” She nods her head to the indifferent plant, each syllable weighted with practiced solemnity.
Her hands move in stiff, rehearsed gestures that seem borrowed from the court advisors rather than flowing from her natural grace.
This is a side of my queen I’ve never witnessed.
My Lark, fierce dragoncaller, savior of the realm, the woman who once set an entire battlefield ablaze with her fire magic when she was cornered, is practicing courtly speech on a houseplant.
“The delegation will expect precise accounting of the Southeastern Border Patrols.” She drops into what I recognize as an imitation of Lord Dunfell’s self-important drone.
The smile pulling at my mouth fades as quickly as it forms.